


Merc With A Trashmouth

by orphan_account



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Rating May Change, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, spideypool!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Despite growing up in Derry together, the two boys went down two very different paths. Richie is the world’s most notorious mercenary and assassin, while Eddie is none other than New York’s sweetheart - the literal poster boy for bringing justice to baddies without unaliving them. This is the self-indulgent spideypool!reddie au that literally nobody asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

Kids who left Derry were fucking strange. But that wasn’t saying much when those who stayed were either absorbed into the evil cogwork of the town’s sinister behaviors or abducted by a demonic sewer clown.

Though, none of these things truly mattered to Richie Tozier.

He supposes he would’ve been strange even if his parents hadn’t even birth to him in that shithole town. Besides, he’s 95% sure all that Pennywise shit happened in another universe, so it’s not like anybody would know what the fuck he’s talking about if he brought it up.

Still, you had to be a special kind of fucked up to be sitting masked in a Toronto bar while a man offers you money to kill another man.

“There are important business transactions happening here, so you won’t get my tragic backstory quite yet, sweetheart.”

The man sitting across from Richie looks confused, yet unsurprised that the mercenary is speaking to thin air. There are always whisperings about how crazy the man is, so nobody expects him to be any less than completely psychotic. If you walked away from a conversation with him without a bullet in any of your limbs, it could be considered a complete success.

“We have an offer for you,” the man said in a low voice, sliding a manila folder across the table. “High-pay target. We suspect him to be Spider-Man. He has been interfering with our drug rings in New York.”

The second Richie opened the file, his heart was hit with a pang of worry, then a wave of rage. In small black typed letters was “Eddie Kaspbrak,” then stamped over in a bright bold red were the words “TERMINATE.” There’s going to be hell to pay for whoever thought this would be a funny April Fools joke to pull on him.

“No,” he growled, tossing the file back onto the table. “He’s from Derry. This guy couldn’t even complete a lap in gym class. What in the fuck makes you think he could possibly Spider-Man?!”

The man instantly shrinks back from Richie’s yelling, slightly in fear for his life.

“People change, Tozier,” the man reasons, then chooses to go for the low blow. “You did, didn’t you?”

Every patron in the bar eavesdropping knew the comment was a mistake and so did the man, as regret instantly washed over him and his face paled. He took those few quiet seconds to silently say goodbye to his limbs.

“Get out,” he mumbled very quietly, almost like a hurt teenager.

“What?”

“Get out!!” he yelled at full volume now, not holding anything back. Sure, he killed people for a living, but damn…he still had feelings.

The man quickly gathered his belongings, sweeping Eddie’s file into his arms. His breathing stopped when Richie placed a crushing grip on his arm.

“Leave Kaspbrak’s file with me,” Richie demanded, determining the amount of pressure it would take to break this guy’s arm.

“I can’t do that Mr. Tozier! My boss will kill me,” the man said panicked but gave in when Richie began applying said pressure. “Ow! Ow! Ok! Ok! Take it! Just please don’t hurt me!”

As soon as he handled the file over, Richie let go, but he wasn’t quite satisfied yet. Before the frightened man could run away, he whipped out his gun.

“One more thing, Mrrr…” Richie said very calmly, a complete contradiction to his behavior only seconds ago.

“Reynolds,” the man whimpered, not taking his eyes off the gun in Richie’s hands.

“Mr. Reynolds,” Richie began, putting the barrel of the gun against the man’s forehead, in between the eyebrows. “You tell whoever the fuck you’re working for that nobody touches Eddie Kaspbrak or every single one in your filthy operation will become very familiar with my good friends here.” He gestures to his guns and the twin katanas strapped to his back.

“We Gucci?”

The man whimpers and nods, fleeing from the bar as soon as Richie puts his gun away.

“God,” Richie giggles, “they are so fun to scare.”

Sitting in this dirty bar, he realizes now he has Eddie’s information, but he’s not sure what to do with it. They haven’t talked in a good 10 years, and he’s not even sure Eddie would even care about him anymore.

It’s not like anybody really does.

But, some crazy part of him is screaming at him to find his childhood best friend and love.

“Uhhh no,” Richie says to no one in particular. “Eddie probably has a perfect life and family, and we kill people for a living.”

Would Eddie hate him if he knew who he grew up to be? Would he be disgusted? Would he find out what’s under this mask and be horrified?

It’s times like these he wishes he still had Stan to be his voice of reason. But then again, if that were reality, Richie wouldn’t be “the Merc with a Mouth.” He’d just be regular old “Trashmouth,” like he was when they were kids.

Constantly, he lays awake at night due to the pain and wonders whether his life would’ve been different if he didn’t move from Derry when he was 15. There was nothing Richie wanted to do more than stay with Eddie, but his father was relocated Canada. Though, that sounds like a relatively safe place to be, right?

It should’ve been, but his parents just would never stop fighting. It wasn’t that bad back in Derry, but the move put too much stress on them and they all snapped in their own ways. Mrs. Tozier yelled at her husband and son whenever she got drunk (which was quite often). Richie’s dad decided to take his anger out on his “idiot son” and would throw Maggie’s empty bottles at him.

Richie?

Well, Richie was a teenager. There was nothing else to do, but fall in with the wrong people and turn to violence. The violence provided money, which was his ultimate independence from the disaster of the Tozier household.

Truthfully, he doesn’t remember much else, due to his state of mental health. All he knows is that he now owns a full arsenal and always has weapons strapped to him, like a fucking lunatic.

And to think, just ten years ago he and the Losers were spitting loogies at the quarry and telling ghosts stories about “Pennywise the Dancing Clown.” Richie was at least glad he didn’t exist in the universe where that stupid clown actually tortured and tormented them. He didn’t need any more problems.

Carefully, he opened the file and looked at the picture of Eddie. This is him at 25, and he’s just as amazing as he was when they were kids. His skin is sun-kissed like it always was when they were younger. He still has all those freckles on his face. There’s a woman with him in the picture, probably his wife or girlfriend, kissing him on the cheek as he laughs.

Richie should be more bitter Eddie has all this - the beauty and a happy life - while Richie has literally nothing, but he just simply can’t be. He remembers how much Eddie struggled when they were kids, as his mother continually manipulated him and the Bowers gang constantly beat on him, but he was always kind to other people. If anybody deserves to be happy, it’s Eddie Kaspbrak.

And if Eddie really is Spider-Man, then Richie would truthfully be impressed and slightly aroused because he’s seen how tight that spandex is.

Maybe, it’s time to pay his old friend a visit….just to make sure no goons try to whack him off.


	2. Chapter 2

For some stupid fucking reason, Richie must’ve expected finding Eddie to be a lot easier than it actually was, which was completely unrealistic because there must be at least two million people in Queens alone. It wasn’t like the file actually helped any. There was an address scribbled inside it, but it had to be an old one because when Richie went, all he found was a delightful old Thai lady. Much to his dismay, Eddie could be literally anywhere in New York, and Richie had no clue where to start.

All he really wanted to do was crawl back to his shitty bar in Canada and pretend he had never even heard Eddie’s name in first place.

Seriously, he’s been around to literally every pharmacy and Starbucks (he knows that boy must drink pumpkin spice lattes) in Queens, and there are still no leads, just dirty looks due to the suit. At least, he left his guns in the hotel room. He learned on a job a couple years ago that NYPD does not fucking play around.

Every single day he’s still there, the lack of action causes cells in Richie’s brain to shrivel, and he just wants to fucking scream, because god dammit..he needs to shoot something. He has been in New York for a total of 5 days, and that’s a lot of days to go without unaliving somebody. All he needs to do is find Eddie, make sure nobody’s done anything stupid, and go the fuck back home, so he can continue playing with Bea and Arthur.

Perhaps, he wasn’t meant to find Eddie, in all honesty. The guy is probably married with a kid or two, doing god knows what American dream job. Richie can tell from personal experience that when Derry memories flood back into your life, it’s like watching a grotesque monster infecting and suffocating anything good you currently have. Derry kids so rarely had the chance of happiness, so who was Richie to waltz into Eddie and rub his excess Derry angst all over Eddie’s perfect life.

But, would any of the Losers grant Richie the same kindness if the roles were reversed and he lived a happy life?

Yes….actually.

Damn his friends for being thoughtful and ethical!

Rationally, he should just give up his search and look for the nearest seedy titty bar to crawl into, while he still has his dignity and Eddie has his.

But, Richie always kinda sucked at being rational.

Most people had their heads to be reasonable over their hearts and dicks, but Richie’s head was just as irrational as the latter two.

Richie giggled to himself on a full subway car, earning the glare of a very scary looking Puerto Rican woman. “You said head,” he mumbled to himself, still immaturely sputtering out laughs.

Like the dumbass he was, Richie decided the best course of action would be to track Spider-Man rather than Eddie. Spider-Man was broadcasted all the time. At any given time, there was a camera ready to film that cute little bubble butt every time a baddie caused some big explosion or killed some people.

If Eddie was Spider-Man, then Richie just had to find Spidey and let him know there’s a hit out on his secret identity. Then, he could finally get the fuck out of New York City!

***********

Six days later, Richie began to realize his plan wasn’t as genius as he expected it to be. Mass destruction doesn’t just happen every day in New York, surprisingly. That wasn’t to say Spider-Man wasn’t active on the streets every day. It just wasn’t exactly news. Crime happens. Spider-Man stops it. Yawn.

He supposes he’d just have to find out what route Spider-Man takes his patrol on because there was no way he was blowing anything up to attract the guy. The feds were already on his ass because he “assassinated over 150 American citizens.” Pffft. Like he didn’t kill anybody who didn’t deserve it. His victims were always drug lords, pedophiles, and other scumbag criminals because he still had a moral code (thank you very much!).

It shouldn’t take this fucking long to find one guy. He’s an assassin for fuck’s sake!

He began to question locals about Spider-Man sightings, though most of them just talked about the footage they’ve seen on the news.

It wasn’t until he came across a Deli owner in Queens that he found an actual lead, completely by accident. Truthfully, he just wanted a roast beef sandwich. He wasn’t looking for anything.

“Man, how hard is it to find Spider-Man in this town?” Richie said conversationally, leaning against the counter while the owner sliced the meat.

The mustachioed man looked him over cautiously, then spoke in a gruff voice. “I thought all youse masked freaks knew each other or something. Are you tellin’ me there’s not a giant bat signal shining out each of your assholes so youse can locate each other?”

For the first time since he came to New York, Richie busted out laughing so hard that he was hunched over and slightly crying.

Thank god for vulgar Deli owners!

As the man finished making the sandwich and rung it up at the register, he still kept a judgemental eye on Richie. When he finally determined Richie wasn’t a threat, he chose to continue speaking.

“Spider-Man comes swinging over this street right here every night,” he gestured out the window. “We appreciate having him in the neighborhood. Stopped my niece from getting mugged. He seems like a good kid…whoever he is.”

Immediately, Richie reached across the counter and grabbed the man’s face with both hands. Before the man could cold-cock him, Richie placed a chaste kiss through his mask the man’s mouth.

“You have just made my decade, buddy,” Richie shouted, throwing a 20 on the counter and snatching up his sandwich. “Keep the change!”

As he ran out the door, he exclaimed to himself, “I can finally get out of this godforsaken city and go home to my sweet, sweet Canada.”

*********

He camped out on the roof of one of the apartment buildings, after convincing an old blind woman to let him in the building because “his son locked him out.” All he had to do now was wait for Spidey.

He was like one of those animals that preyed on spiders.

Lizards??

At least, he thinks lizards eat spiders.

From this day forward, Richie Tozier a.k.a Deadpool a.k.a Trashmouth a.k.a the Sexiest Man Alive was now officially a lizard.

What a day.

At about one in the morning, Richie, sure enough, spotted Spider-Man in all his spandex glory swinging towards him. Before the little fucker could pass over him and get away, Richie stood up and shouted “Spidey!” at the top of his lungs.

Sure enough, Spider-Man noticed the antihero, standing in all his red and black, weapon yielding glory. But, he wasn’t as thrilled to see Richie as he thought the hero might be. Because, Richie is a gay dumbass, he didn’t consider the fact Spider-Man did everything by the books and was a goody-two-shoes, while Richie had been suspected of over 150 murder charges in the United States alone. So it shouldn’t have been a shock when Spider-Man immediately webbed him to the roof before landing.

“Oh wow. This is kinky,” Richie purred, wiggling underneath the webbing.

“Shut up, Deadpool!” Eddie shouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing in my city?”

This definitely wasn’t the time to say anything to agitate the arachnid, but Richie once traded in his self-control for a pretty radical shirt.

He blew a raspberry, then opened his mouth, “like this is your city.”

Everything about this situation annoyed Eddie. It was supposed to be an easy, pleasant patrol with maybe some carjackers, not Deadpool! The man wiggling around on the roof seemed almost bored already with the conversation going on, and he insulted Eddie outright.

Eddie crouched next to Deadpool, prepared to cock him in the jaw for that comment. “Excuse me?”

The merc turned his head to look Eddie in the eye as best as he could with the masks on. “You heard me, Spidey. This isn’t your city. Derry is. Am I correct?”

For a split second, Eddie flinched away from the antihero as if he had been burned, then the shock was immediately replaced with indignation and rage. How dare anybody mention Derry’s existence in his presence! Doesn’t this guy understand how hard he worked to claw his way out of that hellhole?!

Richie sees the anger outlined on Eddie’s mask, the way his jaw and fist clenches, yet he’s completely defenseless. He’s sure he could take whatever beating Eddie could give him, but he sure wouldn’t enjoy it (despite what some people in Hong Kong might tell you).

“I was gonna be nice and leave you webbed to the roof for a couple hours,” Eddie strained through gritted teeth. “But, I guess I’ll just deliver you to the feds mysel-”

“Your name is Eddie Kaspbrak,” Richie interrupted, maintaining utter calmness and seriousness. “Your mom’s name is Sonia Kaspbrak. Your dad died of cancer when you were 5. Your first kiss was with Bill Denbrough during a game of spin the bottle when you were 14. You love the color pink, even though your mother would never let you wear it because it was ‘a color for queers.’ Oh yeah! And, your childhood best friend was Richie Tozier, who you promised to marry as an adult when you were 8.”

Though neither noticed, they both swallowed thickly at the last part. All the tension and anger flooded from Eddie’s body and was replaced by confusion with every word.

“Who are you?” Eddie whispered softly, sitting near Richie’s body.

“Uh-uh, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie scolded, “let me out of your web, and we’ll talk. I’m not going to be privy to your dungeon porn hour.”

The other man looked skeptical, as expected, but he knew he could easily overpower Deadpool if he tried anything, Carefully, he began ripping away his webbings and releasing Richie. All the while, Richie quietly observed him. It seemed as if Eddie’s heart was going to beat out of his chest.

When Richie was finally free, Eddie stared at him expectantly.

“Richie,” the merc muttered under his breath, brushing excess web away from his suit.

“What?” Eddie demanded.

“Richie,” he repeated louder, looking Eddie straight in the face. “My name is Richie Tozier.”

Eddie scoffed and stood up. “Bye, Deadpool.”

As Richie watched Eddie prepare to swing away from the roof and ruin his weeks of hard work, he decided the only appropriate course of action would be to appeal to Spidey’s sense of goodness. A few feet away from him, there was a ventilation system with Big Sharp Blades.

Perfect!

Quickly, he got up and strolled over to the system, sticking his right arm completely. He let out some fake screams, along with actual real grunts of pain. Though he knew the fucker would grow back, losing an arm was literally always going to be painful no matter what. As predicted, the hero turned around at the sound of the screams and immediately ran over.

“Deadpool! What the fuck!”

“Look, Eddie! I’m Georgie,” Richie giggled, which broke out into maniacal laughter. It soon died down, then he deadpanned, “oh yeah. Wrong universe. You won’t get that joke.”

Richie was mentally patting himself on the back for yet another genius idea, as Eddie picked him up and slung him over his shoulders, piggyback style. Wow, this boy was strong. Richie would have to store that knowledge in the wank bank.

“Are you a fucking lunatic?!” Eddie demanded as he began swinging through the air.

A little delirious giggle from the blood loss escaped Richie. “Crazy’s my middle name,” he paused. “Wait. No, it’s actually not. It’s Michael. But, Crazy seems more rad.”

Loudly, Eddie groaned, mourning the loss of his nice easy night on patrol.

“I am so dumping you at a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Richie said firmly.

“Where the fuck else am I supposed to take you?” the other snapped.

“Your apartment.”

Richie could practically feel the eye roll. “You know this was a lot of effort to get into my pants, but I’m not going to sleep with you while you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“So, you’d sleep with me if I wasn’t bleeding everywhere?”

Suddenly, the spot where Richie’s chest was resting on Eddie’s shoulders felt slightly warmer, and if Richie didn’t know any better, he’d say the man was blushing.

“Shut up, asshole! Give me one good reason why I should take you to my apartment.”

Dramatically, Richie cleared his throat, “because my arm will grow back, first of all.” Eddie turned his head slightly to see a small tiny hand poking out of what was a bloody open wound not five minutes ago. It gave a tiny little wave at him. Every thought he ever had about Deadpool being attractive shriveled in literally five seconds as he grimaced underneath his mask at the little hand.

“Second of all, I gave you literally every reason to believe I’m Richie Tozier, yet you still won’t listen to me! Do I have to start whipping out the cringy middle school memories to get you to believe me or what? Because I personally remember the “Eddie’s Booty Jams” mixtape. The ‘80s definitely weren’t as cool as everyone made them out to be.”

It was quiet for a long time, just the sounds of New York below them.

“If I take you to my apartment, will you shut up?” Eddie sighed, no longer willing to fight this crazy situation.

“Gladly, baby boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie honestly debated dropping him from this height.

“God, I hate you,” Eddie muttered. “And for your information, I would literally never sleep with you now that I’ve seen your weird baby hand.”

“So, I had a chance before!?”

Eddie groaned, not for the last time.


	3. Chapter 3

Most people tended to have more welcoming reunions with their childhood friends, but Eddie?

There was going to be none of that nonsense if he could help it.

When they came to Eddie’s apartment window, Eddie immediately flung Richie off his back and into the apartment the minute the window was open. The other’s back hit the hardwood floor with a cracking thud, followed by a groan. Richie began to wriggle his body on the floor, as he tried to lift his upper half up.

“Wow, you don’t gotta be so rough, Eds,” he coughed, hissing in pain when he moved some delicate spots. There was definitely going to be a little bit of bruising on his back tomorrow morning. “You’ve already proved how strong and sexy you are.”

In response, Eddie slammed the window shut and drew the curtains, before ripping his mask off. He was just as gorgeous as Richie knew he was going to be, but seeing it in person made something deep in Richie’s heart ache. Despite all that beauty, Eddie’s wasn’t laughing or even smiling. In fact, he looked pissed. Not the fun kind of shut-up-Richie pissed, but rather the I’m-going-to-kill-you-if-you-don’t-start-giving-me-some-explanations kind of pissed.

“Is everything a joke to you, Rich?” Eddie snapped. He stood with his arms crossed and his mouth pulled into a tight line. Richie would almost find Eddie’s angry stance adorable if it weren’t for the fire in the man’s dark brown eyes. When Richie didn’t answer, Eddie sighed, confliction running across the features on his face. Tiredly, he rubbed his eyes with his palms.

“Do you know the kind of person you are, Rich? A murderer. I shouldn’t even have you in my apartment right now!”

Richie cocked his head to the side, sitting with his legs crossed on the floor.

“That’s the issue?” he asked, incredulously.

Eddie scoffed, glancing at Richie wide-eyed. “There are so many issues right now, Rich! That’s only one of them!”

Slowly, Richie stood up and dusted imaginary dirt off himself, then took a step closer to Eddie, who only cautiously stepped back.

“News flash!” Richie said with a raised voice. “Not everyone is New York’s goody-two-shoes perfect pretty boy! What I do with my life is really none of your business!”

Suddenly, the room, as well as Eddie, went completely cold. Any chance Richie had of reconnecting with his old friend was automatically gone.

“Why are you here, Richie?” he said coldly. “What do you want from me? Are you here to kill me? Because you know I could kick your fucking ass. I think prison orange would be a nice color for you.”

There was a heavy lump in his throat at the idea of Richie even trying to hurt him, but this was probably reality now. His childhood best friend was a cold-blooded killer, not the dorky kid in coke bottle glasses and ugly Hawaiian shirts. Every instinct was telling him to trap Richie in the apartment and call the police, but something deep in his heart kept him from doing it. He needed to know why Richie was like this.

Richie rolled his eyes, which Eddie was really surprised he could see through the mask. The man crept closer to Eddie, causing his spidey senses to go off like alarm bells, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to move.

“You’re a mutant, not immortal, Baby Boy.” He leaned into Eddie’s ear and whispered, “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve.” Richie couldn’t help but smirk when he noticed all the hairs on Eddie’s neck stand up and his breathing growing heavier and ragged.

Then, he immediately stepped out of Eddie’s personal space and deadpanned, “Plus, why would I tell you my name and cut off my arm to get you to talk to me if all I want to do was kill you?”

Logistically, Richie was right. Eddie knew it. This night got even more annoying, because Richie Tozier, and therefore Deadpool, was right of all people! He should’ve left Richie and his weird baby stuck to that roof!

“I’m tired of having your blood all over me,” he stated simply. “So, you’re gonna sit patiently on my couch, while I go change in the bathroom. When I come back, I expect some explanations.”

“Ooh! Bossy! I like that, Eddie Spaghetti.”

As he exited the room, Eddie flipped Richie off, leaving him to his own devices in the living room. Richie would be a saint to not snoop!

There wasn’t much to Eddie’s apartment. It was tidy, as one might expect it to be. Honestly, Richie was surprised he hasn’t found a single bottle of Germ-X yet. Textbooks and lab reports were strewn all over the floor, suggesting that Eddie sure has more going for him than Richie does.

On Eddie’s desk, he had two framed photos on the desk. One of the Losers Club in the summer of 1989, a couple years before Richie moved. Young Eddie was squished in between Richie and Beverly, who were both trying to tickle Eddie, because damn! He was so fun to annoy back then. Young Richie seemed so happy, and he figures it was probably the happiest he had been all summer because God knew he was never happy at home. Richie almost hated looking at his younger self, because it was a physical manifestation of somebody who will never exist again, physically and in spirit.

The other photo is one of the woman from Eddie’s file. Richie can’t stop staring, not because she’s beautiful, but rather because he knows this woman be somebody very important to Eddie. Richie felt a pang of guilt in his heart at being in this apartment. This apartment was probably where Eddie kissed, dined with, slept with, and had sex with this woman, and Richie clearly didn’t belong in this sacred space. He didn’t belong in Eddie’s life, period.

He didn’t even hear Eddie pad into the living room, dressed in sweatpants and an old Guns N Roses t-shirt. Eddie cleared his throat, startling Richie.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Eddie said awkwardly.

“I suppose,” Richie shrugged. “Who is she?”

Richie couldn’t help but notice that Eddie was pointedly avoiding eye-contact with him.

“Ex-fiance,” he said bluntly, sitting down on the couch.

“What happened?”

The room was uncomfortably silent for a minute. Immediately, Richie wanted to abort mission, because he knows he made Eddie uncomfortable. What if she tragically died or something?

Quietly, Eddie mumbled something Richie couldn’t hear, but he could see him blushing (and still avoiding eye-contact).

“I’m sorry?”

“She found out I don’t swing for the home team, if you uuhhhhh…..catch my drift,” Eddie mumbled, just slightly louder. “We’re still good friends, so I haven’t found the need to remove the picture.”

Without being able to control himself, Richie softly started laughing, because oh my god! He was worried about invading this “sacred space” not five minutes ago, and now he finds out Eddie is not a heterosexual. Despite losing an arm, this night is going the best route it possibly could’ve.

But Eddie, being as sensitive as he always was, assumed Richie was laughing at him. His face grew hot and he wanted to throw up because this was not the response he expected.

“Screw you, Richie!” he spat, getting up off the couch.

Richie controlled his giggling long enough to grab Eddie by the wrist before he could leave.

“I’m not laughing at you, Eddie,” he confessed. “I’m laughing because I was feeling guilty being in you and your girlfriend’s apartment, but I realize that was dumb now.”

Visibly, Eddie relaxed, then took his seat on the couch again. Everything in his face grew softer, and his eyes were open and understanding as he took Richie’s hand in his.

“What happened to you, Rich?” he breathed, tears in his eyes. “I wondered and worried about you for the last ten years. How did you get to this point? Why do you still have that stupid mask on?”

Eddie wasn’t dumb. He knew if Richie hadn’t taken off his mask by this point, then there was an obvious reason. It slightly hurt Richie didn’t completely trust him, but could anybody blame him? Ten years was a long time.

Richie played with Eddie’s fingers like he would as a kid when they thought nobody was looking. The familiarity slightly sickened and excited him.

“Why do you wanna see my face so bad, Eddie? You wanna kiss me?” he joked, trying to avoid the real subject.

“Richie.”

“It’s nothing you want to see, Eddie Spaghetti. Let’s just move on.”

Unwillingly, Eddie relented and dropped the subject of Richie’s mask, but that didn’t mean he’d let go of everything else.

“Fine. Why are you here?”

The doe-eyed look Eddie was giving him almost made Richie wanted to cry because he literally never deserves to be looked at like that with those eyes.

“Some drug lord approached me with a hit on you, but I refused. I just wanted to make sure they didn’t hire some other doofus that I’d have to kill.”

Eddie let out a breathy, incredulous laugh, gazing at Richie like he was the most fascinating person in New York City. The sound warmed Richie to his core, and he knew he was fucked. He knew that if he stayed any longer in Eddie’s apartment with Eddie, he’d never want to leave.

“You came all the way out to New York to make sure I was ok? Richie, that’s surprisingly sweet, considering it’s you.”

Richie playfully shoved Eddie, who let out a little giggle that Richie could listen to for the rest of his life. They silently sat together, comfortably giggling and enjoying each others company.

When the laughter died down, the atmosphere took a very sobering turn, as Richie swallowed a lump in his throat in order to continue. He could feel tears in his eyes.

“When we left,” he breathed very quietly, “Maggie and Wentworth would never stop fighting. Nobody in the neighborhood would talk to me because they could all hear the shouts and glass breaking at night. Sneaking out at night became a better option than hanging around and waiting to get hit with an empty whiskey bottle.”

The room was still, as Eddie was silently hanging onto Richie’s every word. He was gripping Richie’s hand tighter because subconsciously, he was terrified of letting Richie go. Tears that matched the other’s began to well in eyes.

“I met this guy who gave me my first gun - this little Glock. Truthfully, I should’ve just buried that gun in the backyard or something, because I had absolutely no reason to have one at all. Well, all I had at that point in my life was anger towards my parents and that dumb little gun.”

Richie went uncharacteristically quiet then, swallowing thickly. Eddie could only imagine what Richie’s eyes must look like right now. Were they sorrowful? Or rather, were they the eyes of a frightened child who made a mistake?

“One night, a mixed of teenagers and adults were all in an abandoned parking lot, drinking, when this guy kept teasing me about the dumb fucking glasses on my face, of all the stupid things. Naturally, the rest of them started egging me on to do something about it. Honestly, I just wanted to be left the fuck alone, because I had gotten in the wrong path of a Jack Daniel’s bottle earlier. Neither side would shut the fuck up and it was escalating to a physical level, so pulled out my Glock. Shot the guy in the leg. Nobody could actually believe that I did it. I love the release – the rush! – I felt from it, so much so that I became ‘the guy that will shoot you if you cross him.’ And the rest? Well, you’d be surprised the kind of things people will pay a trigger happy person to do.”

When it all came out, Richie felt as if he could breathe. Surprisingly, Eddie’s hand was still gripping his. Still, he was almost scared to glance over and see the other’s reaction. But, this is like a highway pileup situation, where you simply just can’t look away, no matter how horrific. So, he looked out of the corner of his eyes.

Eddie was crying. There were tear tracking down his face, glittering in the light of the New York skyline.

Goddamnit.

That’s the one thing he didn’t want to do - make Eddie cry.

He’d much rather have Eddie be disgusted and angry with him, treating him like he was the Son of Satan.

But no. The guy was crying silently and gently as if felt hurt for Richie, a masked murderer.

“I knew you hated it at home, but I didn’t think it was that bad,” he muttered, wiping away tears. “I should’ve tried harder to be there for you. I should’ve called or wrote or something. I was literally the worst best friend ever.”

No. No. No. Richie did NOT want Eddie to blame himself for this because he knew if he did, then the guy would carry guilt (that wasn’t his!) forever. If he remembers one thing correctly, it’s that Eddie carries guilt as if it’s one of his vital organs, meaning he refuses to part with it. It’s what made Sonia Kaspbrak so successful at being a manipulative mother.

Richie grabbed Eddie’s face with his hands, turning it towards his still masked face. His eyes were wide in shock, and Richie kinda wished he could drown in those big brown pools right now.

“Dude, I chose to shoot people. Literally, none of it is your fault. You’re not a terrible friend, but you are dumb if you think you could’ve stopped me.”

Once again, the room was silent, as Eddie attempt to search Richie’s masked face for any dishonesty, only being disappointed when he realized he can’t read anything from a mask. He reached for the seam on Richie’s neck.

Richie immediately jumped away from the touch, putting a considerable distance between him and Eddie. He wishes he hadn’t when he sees the hurt look in Eddie’s eyes.

“You don’t trust me?” Eddie sniffled.

Of course, Richie trusted Eddie. He just didn’t trust himself to be able to handle Eddie’s reaction.

Instead of voicing this, he chose to just rip the band-aid off and take his mask off so Eddie would stop looking at him like that.

“I’m still hotter than your mom,” Richie half-joked, as he sat there, bare to Eddie, who did not vomit.

These were good signs.

Gently, Eddie reached out to run his hands over the scarred skin, feeling the uneven texture and scabs. He retracted his hand when Richie let out a hiss.

“It must be sensitive,” Eddie mumbled.

“Pretty ugly, right?” Richie said in a self-deprecating tone.

Eddie vigorously shook his head, forcefully grabbing Richie’s face in his hands. He was wearing a stubborn look on his face, and Richie knew this wasn’t a battle he was going to win.

“I like this better,” he confessed. “I like being able to see your eyes. Did you get contacts? They’re nice, dumbass.”

Richie just stared at Eddie in shock, which Eddie absolutely loved seeing in his eyes. He hated trying to communicate with Richie through that dumb mask.

“By the way,” Eddie started, stifling a laugh, “you were pretty ugly when we were kids too.”

Finally, Eddie left out his laugh, which Richie couldn’t help but join in on.

Maybe, he was meant to find Eddie after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Eddie invited Richie to stay the night on his couch, which the other did, but when he woke in the morning, Richie was nowhere to be found. Though, Eddie knows he shouldn’t be too disappointed.

Instead of worrying over Richie, Eddie tried his best to forget the other man. He went on with his daily routine, interning at Oscorp by day and catching baddies by night. But, he couldn’t help but feel a longing to see red and black on any of these rooftops.

The antihero didn’t appear until a month later, long after Eddie had given up hope of seeing his best friend again. 

Vigilantly, he was watching the streets of Brooklyn down below, spotting an elderly woman who seemed to be a domestic squabble on her front step. Just before he was about to descend and step in, he heard that cursed voice behind him. The one that made heat appear in his belly, but also made him want to punch somebody. 

“Is that what you do all night?” Richie drawled. “Helping old ladies cross the street? Stopping domestic disturbances? Isn’t that NYPD’s job?”

Eddie just rolled his eyes, refusing to turn around and look at Richie. He knew if he did, he’d either deck or kiss the bastard. There was no in-between. 

“Do you see any police here?” Eddie said mockingly, gesturing down to the street below his feet. “Somebody’s gotta look out for the little guy.”

Richie sat down on the ledge next to him. “You know, I always thought Stan was the true boy scout, but I think you’ve got him beat.” 

The only response Richie got was a scoff, because what did he know about Stan? Or Eddie? Or any of them? He’s been isolated in Canada for ten years, without even trying to talk to any of them. Hell, he didn’t even bother to tell Eddie he was leaving.

As if reading his mind, Richie simply stated, “I went away on a job.”

Instead of giving a proper response, Eddie just made a grunt that communicated “Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.” But, Eddie cared. Eddie always cared about Richie.

And, Richie was always good at reading Eddie, even if Eddie hated to admit that. 

“Aaaw,” Richie cooed. “Did my Eddie Spaghetti miss me? I bet you would’ve liked it if I just climbed into your bed and showed you how much fun I can be.”

A deep blush ran down Eddie’s face and his shoulders, causing him to mentally curse. This is fucking ridiculous. He’s a grown ass man, not a teenager. Richie shouldn’t be able to just walk back into his life and have this effect on him. 

“You’re always big talk, Trashmouth,” Eddie quipped right back, refusing to indulge Richie’s flirting one single bit. “All you’ve got is ‘your-mom jokes’ and zero charm.”

“If you mean I’ve got simultaneously sexy and disgusting stories about how I totally porked your mom and enough charm to charm your tight little spandex pants off, then yes, that is very accurate, Eds,” he retorted, slinging his arm over Eddie’s shoulder. 

“God. Do you ever hear the words that come out of your mouth? Or, do you just love talking that much?” Eddie made weak attempts to remove Richie’s arm, but he secretly loved it. Just like he loved every single dumb thing Richie does.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Eddie said bluntly, addressing the elephant in the room. 

Richie winced at the harsh tone, letting his arm around Eddie’s shoulder to falter. He should have never expected for Eddie to want to see him because it’s obvious that he doesn’t. Eddie probably wants him out of his life as soon as possible. 

“I have a job here,” he said meekly. Eddie swears it was the quietest he’s ever heard Richie speak. “Some scumbag arms dealer. Sleazeballs loving paying me to whack off other sleazeballs. Doesn’t bother me any. Keeps my bank account full.”

Normally, Eddie wouldn’t take off his mask in public for any reason, but in the moment, he found glaring at Richie to be a good enough reason. No matter what, he just couldn’t agree with killing people. Even if they really deserved it, like Beverly’s dad and Henry Bowers.

It wasn’t Eddie’s call to make, nor was it Richie’s.

Richie glanced over as soon as he saw the movement, and rolled his eyes at the scowl gracing Eddie’s features right now. Of course, Eddie would try to play Mr. Righteous right now.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Richie barked.

“Killing people is wrong, Rich,” Eddie tried uselessly.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious! I totally came for this lesson in morality!” he replied, standing to leave Eddie alone..again.

“Then, why did you come, Richie?” Eddie asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer. 

“I don’t know,” Richie confessed. “Some part of me just kept saying ‘this is the ‘80s and I’m a teenager again,’ but obviously, neither of those things are true.”

And with that, Richie was gone.

***********

The thing was, Richie always came back two or three weeks later. There was never a single time he left permanently, Eddie noticed. Every time they argued and Eddie thought Richie was gone for good, Eddie would wake up to Richie eat cornflakes on his couch a week later, with the explanation “had a job” in hand. 

At this point, he didn’t really care that Richie even broke into his house. He just wanted the man to stay.

It has even gotten to the point where Richie has started leaving and keeping clothes in his apartment, which Beverly and Stan have definitely noticed. 

One night, they were in a nostalgic mood and watching “Breakfast Club” on Eddie’s couch, when Stan found a dark red hoodie on the ground, which he knew definitely wasn’t Eddie’s because it was two sizes too large and smelled like it hadn’t been washed in a month.

“So, who’s your boyfriend?” Stan said scandalously, tossing the hoodie in Bev’s direction. She also recognized it as foreign. 

“Eddie,” she gasped, “you’re getting some and not telling me?? This definitely breaks the best friend code.”

Before they could harass him anymore, he snatched the hoodie from Bev’s hands, promptly shoving it underneath the couch. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Eddie said quickly. “You’d have to kiss and sleep with someone for them to be classified as a ‘boyfriend,’ and we are doing neither of those things.”

“So,” Stan started, genuinely confused, “you’re taking it slow?”

“No, no, no,” Eddie rushed. “There is no slow. There is no boyfriend. There’s just this weird guy that sleeps on my couch sometimes and uses my shower.”

“Is he cute?” Beverly interjected. 

“He’s dumb,” Eddie spat, avoiding the question. 

“Eddie’s got a crush on weird hobo man!” Beverly exclaimed, slightly shaking Stan, who looked fully amused. 

“Why is there a strange guy sleeping on your couch, Eddie?” Stan asked incredulously, trying to hold back a laugh. 

“He’s a friend,” Eddie said simply. “Somebody who I think has been alone for too long.”

*************

Like clockwork, Richie came back to Eddie’s apartment, but not by key (Eddie gave him one after the third time he broke in) as usual. Eddie had been sprawled out on the couch after a long day of dealing with Norman Osborn's bullshit, trying to fucking relax. Then, suddenly a red and black figure was climbing through his window and bleeding all over his shit.

It looked as though Richie had a few bullet wounds in the abdomen, which must’ve been painful, regenerative powers or not. 

“What the fuck, Richard?” Eddie sprang off the couch, rushing to assist Richie into his apartment. 

“You should see the other guy,” Richie laughed weakly. “He’s dead.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Eddie mumbled, trying to assess how bad the situation was. “Let’s get you to the bathroom and clean you up. This is a bad neighborhood, but at least I was able to snag the apartment that didn’t have blood on the carpet and you are not ruining that, Trashmouth.”

A wide grin broke out on Richie’s face from the old nickname, as he took his mask off. He often did that when he was in Eddie’s apartment, mainly because Eddie didn’t seem to give a shit either way. 

Eddie’s bathroom was nice and tidy like it always was. There was a little pink fuzzy cover on the toilet seat, which Richie plopped right on to. He could only watch as Eddie worried over him, looking his body over for any other wounds. If there wasn’t such a loss of blood, Richie definitely would've had a reaction to Eddie’s hands being on his thighs. 

When Eddie decided everything was relatively unscathed, he commanded Richie to remove his suit. 

 

“As hot as you are, Eddie Spaghetti, I don’t think I am physically able to bone right now. Call back in a couple hours.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Richie upside the head. 

“Not like that, asshole,” Eddie hissed. “I need to remove those bullets. I’m no medical student, but I think not having literal metal in your body will speed up the healing process.”

Richie looked at him skeptically, nervously fidgeting on the toilet seat. 

“There’s no need for that,” he choked out. “My body will push them out on its own.”

“Richie,” Eddie said sternly, “you are bleeding all over my apartment. Do you want my help or not?”

Truly, Richie couldn’t say no to Eddie’s serious face, which clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. He relented and began taking off the boots first then his weapons, finally slowly removing the top half of the spandex suit that kept him well hidden from the judgemental world. 

He expected Eddie’s immediate reaction to be repulsion, but there was little to no reaction at all. Eddie’s eyes raked over his scared body, and while there was some sort of unreadable look in Eddie’s eyes, it wasn’t negative. 

It was pretty obvious by the shaking of Eddie’s hands as he retrieved tweezers from the medicine cabinet that he had never done anything like this before. Yet another reason why this was a stupid idea, but Richie couldn’t say no. He wanted Eddie to take care of him. He wanted Eddie to care about him.

“I’ve always done this with broken glass,” Eddie whispered in confession, placing his hands on Richie’s chest to the steady them. “Never with bullets, though.”

The first one Eddie went for was the one lodged below his ribs, which he tried to pull out with utmost care. It hurt like a bitch, but Richie had a high pain tolerance and he wasn’t going to let Eddie know that. The second and final one was directly in Richie’s side, which caused Eddie to have to crouch between the toilet and the counter to get to it. When he finally removed the second one, he let it clatter with the other one into an empty soap dish on the counter. 

“How do you feel?” Eddie tried sheepishly, stroking Richie’s head comfortingly. 

“Like you just removed bullets from my body with tweezers,” Richie wheezed, still winded from his fight. 

“Could be worse,” Eddie shrugged. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Rich.”

“Why are you taking care of me, Eddie?” Richie mumbled, barely loud enough for the other to hear. 

“Because, you’re still dumb Richie Tozier, and somebody has to take care of you.”

Tears welled in Richie’s eyes, as he let Eddie help him into the shower, not yet removing the bottom half of his suit. 

“Wanna get in with me, Eds?” Richie teased, only half meaning it. “I think I’ve got most of my strength back now.”

The only response he got was Eddie rolling his eyes and flipping him the bird. 

*******

When he exited the bathroom dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt Eddie so kindly laid out for him, he found Eddie watching reruns of Cheers on the couch. 

He was about to walk out the front door when Eddie immediately piped up from his spot on the couch.

“Don’t even think about it, Rich. You are going to lay down in my bed and sleep, for fuck’s sake. You don’t need to be walking around New York City at this hour.”

So, instead of fighting it, he wandered back to the room he’s seen Eddie disappear into so many times. Hesitantly, he laid down on Eddie’s bed, which wasn’t comfortable by any means, and wondered what it would be like to hold Eddie in this bed.

Quickly, he drifted off to sleep.

************

“What the fuck, Eddie?” Richie heard a voice say from the living room. Eddie’s bedroom door was cracked and there was a sliver of light entering the room. “You missed dinner with Beverly and I. You never miss dinner!”

Beverly?

“I got caught up with something at Oscorp, Stan,” Eddie said, defensively.

Stan?

Does Eddie still talk to those guys?

Stan let out a cold disbelieving laugh, raising his voice, “then why is there a blood stain on your carpet, Eddie?! And weapons in your bathroom?”

“I had to help a friend,” Eddie defended. 

Richie got up from bed to watch the scene from the crack in the door, in case he had to jump in during a scenario where things could go south for Eddie. 

Stan (who hadn’t changed much since they were kids) was clutching Richie’s mask in his hands, glaring at Eddie, while Eddie vigorously tried to defend himself from such incriminating evidence. 

“Deadpool?! Deadpool is the friend!?” Stan demanded, gripping the mask so tightly his hands were shaking. Suddenly, his voice became blunt and emotionless, “I’m telling Bill.”

Bill? Man, this was the worst possible Losers Club reunion that could happen. And, Richie’s pretty sure there’s a universe where that reunion ends in Eddie’s death!

“You don’t know everything, Stan,” Eddie hissed, ripping Richie’s mask from Stan’s grasp. “Bill doesn’t need to know anything.”

“Bill is a federal agent, while Deadpool is a merciless criminal murderer, of course, he needs to know,” Stan scoffed. “I can’t believe you would consort with those kinds of people. After all the ‘truth and justice’ bullshit I’ve heard you spew about being Spider-Man. Deadpool murders people like us for mon-”

“It’s Richie,” Eddie said bluntly, interrupting Stan’s rant. 

Immediately, all of Richie’s systems hit the abort button, because now Stan knew and Stan wanted to turn him into the feds. 

Stan stood there in genuine confusion, unsure of what to say, so he dumbly replied with “what?”

“Deadpool is Richie,” Eddie said lowly. “As in, Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier. And, you and Bill are my best friends and all, but he’s always been my best friend too.”

After a very uncomfortable moment of silence, Stan only muttered, “that’s not fucking possible.”

“That’s what I thought! But, he just showed up one day and started hitting on me like he would when we were teenagers!”

“So let me get this straight,” Stan began, “weird hobo guy is Richie and Richie is Deadpool.”

Eddie nodded solemnly, placing a comforting hand on Stan’s shoulder. 

Instead of responding, Stan just shook his head, heading for the door. 

“You and Richie were always such a pain in my ass,” he sighed. “But, I won’t tell Bill just yet, because I know you’d choose him over us. Even when we were kids, you always chose Richie first. Just...please think about what this means and the kind of person Richie has become.”

With that, Stan exited the apartment, allowing Richie and Eddie to finally breathe freely. Richie couldn’t tell if he wanted to walk out into the living room and grab Eddie by the waist and never let him go. Or, if he wanted to leave the apartment and Eddie’s life, never to return. If it was known Eddie was harboring Richie, it could only lead to complications. 

Before Richie could make his decision, he saw Eddie approaching the bedroom, so he quickly got back into bed and pretended to be asleep. Unexpectedly, Eddie climbed into bed next to Richie, clutching onto to the other in a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry nobody understands, Rich,” Eddie whimpered, tears slipping down his cheeks. 

Soon, Eddie fell asleep next to Richie, who pulled the other closer to his body after he was fully asleep.

So, this is what it was like to hold Eddie in Eddie’s bed.

Richie liked it a lot.


End file.
